


Reassessing the Field

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Impaired Judgment (and other excuses) [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 19:58:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13197471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: “You look exhausted,” Raf says.Jared doesn’t know how strong his glare is, because heisexhausted, and glaring feels like a lot of work.“You okay?” Raf asks.“How is Bryce fucking Marcus winning at psychological warfare?” Jared asks.





	Reassessing the Field

Jared can’t figure out what the fuck Marcus meant by a ‘ride’, no matter how much he thinks about it.

Like, of course he didn’t mean it the way Raf said it, all…euphemism-y. Jared though Raf was above that shit. Acting like a fucking teenager. Ridiculous. Even if they are maybe teenagers. That’s not the point. Jared had faith in him. Jared’s faith was not rewarded.

So, discounting the innuendo Raf so immaturely brought up, Jared’s left with a few possibilities.

One: Marcus is genuinely interested in like, befriending him. 

Jared’s going to dismiss that one out of hand.

Two: Marcus is offering because he wants to show off. 

Way more likely, but it seems like a lot of effort just to show off to a random teenager when you could get actual media attention easy as anything.

Three: this is all a set-up for some elaborate mean girl prank.

Jared doesn’t know. Raf’s kind of right about Marcus not being that kind of guy. Not that you need to be smart to be mean — honestly, some of the biggest bullies Jared has met have counted among the stupidest people he’s met — but Marcus doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d be capable of the whole solicitous hovering as part of a long game. That’s more Jared’s thing, apparently. Not that he’s been particularly good at it.

But if Marcus isn’t doing as some elaborate bait and switch, what possible reason could he have? Showing off his conspicuous consumption, sure, but Jared doesn’t actually have to get in the car to know it was stupid expensive. So then there’s befriending, which no. And the ‘ride’, which — fuck it, Raf. Of course not. Tell a dude you’re gay and then suddenly everything’s loaded with meaning. Ridiculous.

Jared’s going crazy. And also going to get all of five — he looks at his alarm clock — make that four hours of sleep tonight. Wonderful. If this is psychological warfare, Marcus is somehow winning, which is unfair. 

This is all very unfair.

Jared punches his pillow, rolls onto his side, and tries very hard to sleep. 

*

“You look exhausted,” Raf says.

Jared doesn’t know how strong his glare is, because he _is_ exhausted, and glaring feels like a lot of work.

“You okay?” Raf asks.

“How is Bryce fucking Marcus winning at psychological warfare?” Jared asks.

Raf smiles a little, and Jared would call him out for being unsympathetic, but he’s Jared’s only friend at camp. Unless you include Bryce Marcus, apparently.

Jared obviously does not include Bryce Marcus.

“How do you win a game you have no idea you’re playing?” Raf says, which is way too deep for Jared at this level of sleep-deprivation. They have to do wind sprints today. Jared’s going to die.

Jared grunts in lieu of an answer. He’s pretty sure it was a rhetorical question anyway.

Raf pats his shoulder, and even though it feels a little condescending, it also makes Jared feel a bit better, so he allows it.

*

Marcus is _everywhere_.

Not just hanging over Jared, though he’s definitely doing some of that, just like every day, but just _there_. Talking to Richmond ten feet away, voice so loud it’s cutting through Jared’s concentration, disruptive as hell, which is probably not something you should be as a coach. Coaching the red team, which Jared thankfully isn’t on, during scrimmage, leaning in to some of the guys on the bench, hovering too close, like he’s imparting some divine wisdom. Bullshit, more likely.

Jared doesn’t know if Marcus is actively trying to be in the corner of his eye every fucking minute of the day, but either way he’s managed it, and it’s infuriating. Jared can’t do camp without him there, which, okay, obviously, since he’s coaching. He can’t go home and chill without wasting his damn time off thinking about Marcus. He can’t _sleep_. This is completely intolerable.

“Why won’t he go away,” Jared hisses to Raf.

“Who?” Raf says, then, looking around, “Jared, he’s like halfway across the rink.”

“He’s too _close_ ,” Jared says. “He’s fucking _infuriating_. He has a _whistle_.”

“He’s a coach,” Raf says. “I mean, kinda.”

“But he’s never used it,” Jared says. “He probably thinks he’s so fucking cool, pretending at shit and wearing a whistle.”

“So uh,” Raf says. “The Oilers. Man, I hate them.”

“You’re transparently trying to change the subject,” Jared says, but it’s not like he’s going to pass on a chance to trash talk the Oilers with another hater.

*

Jared has another goddamn terrible night of sleep, and it’s Bryce goddamn Marcus’ fault. God _damn_.

Sorry grandma.

*

“You look terrible,” Raf greets him with the next morning.

“Not sugarcoating it today, huh?” Jared asks.

“Sorry,” Raf says. “But you’re like, okay, right?”

“Peachy fucking keen,” Jared snaps, then deflates. “Sorry. Slept like shit.”

“What’s up?” Raf says.

“Nothing,” Jared says. “Just. My brain’s stupid. It’s nothing.”

He gets another shoulder pat. He leans into it this time, and Raf wraps an arm around his shoulder.

“Tomorrow’s Friday,” Raf says. “So there’s that. You can sleep all weekend.”

“Yeah,” Jared sighs. Except probably not. Spend his weekend obsessing even more, more likely, and with no hockey as a distraction. Not that it’s been doing well as that, because Jared keeps getting distracted from his distraction thanks to Marcus. Fucker.

Raf shakes his shoulder. “Let’s go in,” he says, and Jared nods and braces himself for another day of Bryce Marcus being fucking everywhere and somehow a total mystery despite having the depth of a puddle. 

*

Marcus is everywhere all morning, just as Jared expected. Everywhere but near Jared, and you’d think that’d help, but it does the exact opposite. 

Jared savagely chews the dry ass sandwich provided at lunch. 

“I’m not going to go for a ride,” Jared says.

“Okay,” Raf says, drawn out and sceptical. Jared would take offence if he hadn’t just blurted that out in the middle of Raf gushing about his girlfriend.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jared says. 

“I mean, you clearly have something to get off your chest,” Raf says.

“It’s off,” Jared says. “Gone. Finito. Fini.”

“You sure?” Raf says.

“Totally,” Jared says.

* 

Marcus doesn’t come anywhere near him that afternoon either. Jared can’t ignore that, can’t ignore him. It’s like he’s gotten attuned to Marcus’ presence just as he’s stopped being _present_ , like the second Marcus finally got a clue Jared lost the plot.

“Bud,” Raf says.

“Hm?” Jared says.

“You’re checked out,” Raf says, which is when Jared realises they’re supposed to be breaking into groups. Thanks to Jared, they get stuck with Spencer, who’s got some serious BO, which is saying something when you’re a bunch of sweaty dudes, and Steen, who’s a straight up asshole, which is also saying something considering this entire group has at least a few asshole tendencies, with the sole apparent exception of Raf.

“Sorry,” Jared mumbles, and does his best to check back in. It’s hard work though: he’s drooping from two nights of less than great sleep, from his head twisting itself in impossible shapes when it isn’t circling, from tracking Marcus like a stalker. God, he’s being a stalker. For probably the thousandth time, he wonders what the hell is wrong with him. 

By the time they’re finally released, he’s a combination of wiped and wired. It’s an ugly, jittery kind of exhausted, and he snapped at Steen and Spencer too much, and Raf _way_ too much considering Raf didn’t deserve it, while Steen and Spencer did. There’s a wide berth around him as he changes back into street clothes, even Raf giving him space.

“Sorry,” Jared says again, when Raf’s heading out.

“S’okay,” Raf says. “Maybe have an early night or something?”

“Yeah,” Jared says. 

Jared lags behind the group, and maybe that’s exhaustion, or maybe it’s because Marcus is having an involved conversation with some of the other less token coaches. Jared ties his sneakers as Marcus heads out, ends up about ten feet behind him in the lot, and okay, wait, _way_ too stalkery. 

Jared wishes Raf hadn’t left already. If Raf was here, maybe he’d stop him from what he’s about to do. Probably not, but maybe. But like. Jared can stop himself. Jared has self-control. Jared is going to walk to his mom’s car, and Jared is going to drive the car home, and that is the only fucking ride Jared will go on, because Jared isn’t —

Fuck it.

“Yo Marcus!” Jared calls. He thinks it was supposed to sound casual — why would it sound anything else? — but it emphatically doesn’t. It sounds kind of like he’s freaking out. He has no idea why.

Marcus turns around, looking all ‘who me?’ for a second, like he’s shocked Jared’s calling over to him. Which, okay, maybe isn’t surprising. Jared hadn’t been particularly good at the whole ‘being nice to Marcus’ plan even before it went completely off the rails with Marcus’ offer, so it’s maybe a little weird. He walks back over, though, and doesn’t even look wary, so maybe Jared hasn’t been terrible at faking it. Or maybe Marcus is so convinced of his supposed charm that he thinks he’s won Jared over. Or maybe he knows he hasn’t but he just doesn’t see Jared as a threat.

Not that Jared’s a threat, just. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t like being underestimated. Accurately estimated? He _could_ be a threat, is the point.

“What’s up?” Marcus asks, hands in his pockets. He sounds calm and collected, so basically the opposite of Jared, whose heart has started beating fast, like maybe _Marcus_ is the threat. Fight or flight are rattling in him right now, and he doesn’t know which one he wants to follow more, so instead he’s gone still, like prey. “Matheson?” Marcus says, all humouring, because yeah, Jared’s the one who called him over, and now Jared’s frozen like a rabbit or a deer or a soon to be dead man.

“You mean it about that ride?” Jared asks.

Marcus frowns, like he doesn’t know what Jared’s talking about, and fuck. Of course he didn’t. It was so insignificant he already forgot it, or it was a joke, the set-up for a punchline, or —

“Yeah,” Marcus says. “You want to?”

“I mean,” Jared says. “Want’s a strong word, but. Like. If you’re still offering.”

“Right now?” Marcus asks. His face is doing something weird, like a smile but not, eyes crinkling as his mouth goes down around the corners. 

“If your no doubt impressively packed schedule allows for it,” Jared says. 

“No, I —” Marcus says, then his face goes kind of flat. “Shit, no, I can’t today.”

“Okay,” Jared says. “Never mind. Whatever.”

He feels his cheeks flaming, eyes tight. It’s humiliating. Not that Bryce fucking Marcus has the capability of humiliating him, because obviously he doesn’t, but Jared kind of thought — he doesn’t like to be wrong. That’s what’s humiliating.

“But I—” Marcus says.

“You know what, never mind, I don’t even know why I—” Jared says, cuts himself off when his voice cracks over, like he’s upset, what the _fuck_ , voice. He sounds like some newly pubescent thirteen year old. The humiliations just keep on coming. “I’m gonna go,” he manages, more even.

“Tomorrow?” Marcus says. “Like, it’s Friday, so you probably don’t — we can grab dinner or something? Make a thing of it?”

“Um,” Jared says. “A thing?”

“Yeah,” Marcus says, with a little shrug, like it explains itself, which it absolutely does not.

Like what even is a _thing_? Marcus going whole hog on the ‘NHLer most likely to declare bankruptcy within a year of retirement’ schtick he’s got going for him, show off the fancy car, maybe take Jared to some restaurant where they, like, sprinkle tasteless gold flakes on the food because you’re not rich until you’re shitting gold? Jared’s heard about those places. He doesn’t know if there’s anywhere in Calgary pretentious enough to do that, but he bets if there is, Marcus is a loyal customer.

“Okay, fine, whatever,” Jared says. “Tomorrow.”

“Looking forward to it,” Marcus says, giving him that grin that’s all unnaturally white teeth — Jared wonders if they’re veneers or not, wouldn’t be surprised if he got them whitened, even knowing the chances of losing at least some of them — and is like. Almost charming. Not even close to as charming as he thinks he is, obviously, but. 

“Whatever,” Jared repeats. He’s grateful Raf isn’t there, because he’s pretty sure if he was, he’d be elbowing Jared and telling him he’s blushing again. 

Which he isn’t. He’s just — Raf would probably think he was. For some reason.

“I gotta go,” Marcus says. “But. Tomorrow. Looking forward to it.”

“You already said that,” Jared says.

“Yeah,” Marcus says, and he’s pretty sure if Raf was here he’d be telling Raf that _Marcus_ was blushing. But like. Still hot out. Calgary’s hot in the summer. Whatever.

“You said you had to go,” Jared says when Marcus doesn’t move.

“Yeah, I — bye,” Marcus says, and he’s probably out of earshot when Jared mumbles a bye of his own, but he waves like a dork anyway, like even if he didn’t hear him he heard him.

That doesn’t even make sense. Nothing even makes sense.

“What the fuck is happening,” Jared mumbles to himself, and absolutely no one hears him that time.


End file.
